In the Dark of the Night
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Weechesters fic! The Winchesters struggle to stay alive after their car plows into a tree during a blizzard.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Author's Note: Lady Wallace suggested the series to me, and I was hooked from the first episode. If you like stories of Sam and Dean with children, then check out the fic we are co-writing, "Life's Little Surprises." It's posted on LadyWallace's profile.

In the Dark of the Night

Four-year-old Sammy Winchester huddled in the corner of the backseat of his father's black Chevy Impala. It was cold outside, cold enough to snow. In fact, it was snowing. Huge, fluffy flakes drifted down from the heavens above to coat the frigid ground with a white blanket. "When's Daddy comin' back, Dean?" he asked as he breath clouded white around his face.

"Soon, Sammy," Dean answered. Eight-year-old Dean gripped the gun he held tightly. His father had pressed it into his hand before leaving the brothers alone in the car and told him to protect his little brother. Dean had nodded stoically. Of course he would protect Sam; he always did. Big brothers were supposed to protect little brothers.

"Can we go play in the snow?" Sammy asked as he drew pictures with his finger on the fogged up window.

"We have to stay in the car, Sammy. It's too cold out there," Dean informed him. He used his sleeve to wipe down his window and then leaned over to wipe his brother's as well.

"Hey!" Sam protested.

"I need to be able to see," Dean explained.

"So you can see Daddy coming?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Yup," Dean answered even as his grip on the gun tightened. Sam didn't need to know that their dad was out in the snowy woods tracking something scarier than his worst nightmares.

Sammy reached up to the black knit cap he wore on his head and tugged it down over his face. "Look at me, Dean," he giggled as he turned toward his brother. "Now my face is gonna be real warm."

"You look like a bank robber," he told his brother even as his stomach began to churn anxiously. Their dad should have been back by now. What if something bad had happened to him? What if he was lying somewhere wounded in the snow? Dean ran a finger over the smooth handle of the gun he held.

Sam, oblivious to his brother's worries, giggled once more before he pulled the hat up so he could look at his brother. "I'm hungry."

Dean's stomach grumbled loudly at his brother's words. They'd missed lunch and now it was past time for supper. Surely their dad would be back soon. He reached under the backseat and produced the last granola bar from the pack their dad had bought last week. "Here, Sammy. This should hold you over."

"Thanks, Dean," the little boy smiled. He sat back on the cold leather seat in the gathering darkness and took off his black gloves before ripping the paper off of the granola bar. With his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration, he broke the granola bar in half. One side ended up being slightly bigger than the other.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sam handed the bigger piece to Dean. "Here, I know you're hungry, too. I heard your stomach growling."

"That's okay, Sammy. I'll eat when Dad gets back." Dean shook his head and ruffled his brother's brown hair.

"No, you always share with me, so I'm gonna share with you. It's what brothers do." Sam pressed the granola bar into Dean's hand that wasn't holding the gun.

"Thank, Sammy," Dean grinned, his heart warming at his little brother's thoughtfulness.

Sam crawled up onto his knees so he could look out of the back window of the Impala as he ate his half of the granola bar. "You're the bestest big brother, Dean." His eyes widened. "Here comes Daddy, and he's runnin'!"

Dean nearly choked on the last bite of granola bar and tightened his grip on the gun as he scrambled over the seat to unlock the front driver's side door for his dad.

John Winchester skidded to a stop beside the car and flung himself inside before slamming the door behind him. He fumbled with the keys in the ignition until the car roared to life.

"Didja get it, Dad?" Dean asked anxiously as he watched John look back the way he had come.

"It was worse than I thought. I'm going to need some help from Bobby on this one."

"Yay, we get to see Uncle Bobby!" Sam enthused happily from the backseat.

Dean settled in the passenger seat beside his dad. Despite the granola bar Sam had shared with him, his stomach still rumbled emptily. "Can we stop and get something to seat? Sam's hungry."

"You are, too, Dean!" Sam pointed out as he leaned over the backseat. "I heard your stomach growl."

"Not now, boys. We need to get to Bobby's as soon as we can." John knew his boys were hungry, but he didn't dare stay out in the lonely darkness with that monster on the loose.

Sam fell with a sigh into the backseat while Dean crossed his arms over his chest up front. Life was always about the hunt. Grumbly tummies and cold fingers and toes mattered little when there were lives to be saved.

Shivering despite his heavy coat, Dean forced himself to be cheerful for his little brother's sake. "Okay, Dad. It won't take too long to get to Uncle Bobby's. We can wait, right Sammy?"

Sam leaned forward and studied his brother's face carefully for a moment. If Dean could wait, so could he. "Right, Dean," he answered with a grin.

Sam settled into the corner of the backseat once again and curled up in a ball. He tugged his knit cap down over his face and tried to pretend that his tummy wasn't empty and that his toes weren't cold. To distract himself from his hunger, Sam began singing his ABCs. Dean had taught them to him and seemed proud whenever Sam sang them out loud.

"Not now, Sam!" John grunted as he squinted to see the road amidst the gathering darkness and blowing snow.

Sam sighed and huffed a breath through the black knit of his hat. He had been cold a really long time, and it was becoming hard to ignore. The coldness crept through the thick winter coat he wore and through the two pairs of socks Dean had insisted on tugging onto his feet this morning. Sam wanted to whine, but he knew his father wouldn't tolerate it. John was tired and on edge.

"We'll be at Uncle Bobby's soon," Dean soothed his brother as he looked over his shoulder from the passenger seat. "You can sing me your ABCs before you go to bed." He couldn't see anything in the darkness except the huddled ball in the corner of the seat that he knew was his little brother, but he could sense Sam's restlessness.

"Dean, help me watch the road. The snow is getting worse." John hunched forward over the steering wheel and peered into the whiteness that whipped against the windshield.

Dean swallowed against the sudden fear that clogged the back of his throat. He had no idea how his dad was even driving; it was nearly impossible to see. The road had disappeared just after they'd started out. "Maybe we should pull over, Dad," he offered quietly.

"The snow would just bury us the way it's coming down," John replied. "We have to keep going. We're getting close to Bobby's anyway."

Dean glanced toward his father and noticed the worry lines that tightened around his eyes. A gnawing fear began in his gut when he realized that John was scared.

The car chose that moment to lose traction on the road and the back end swerved before John was able to straighten it out. Sam screamed from the backseat.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean called out even as he braced his hands against the dashboard.

"I'm scared, Dean. Can you come sit with me?" Sam pleaded. He pressed his gloved hands over the black knit cap that covered his face and tried to pretend that it wasn't snowing outside.

Dean glanced at his father who scowled at his youngest son's words. "Dad needs me right now, Sammy, but when we get to Uncle Bobby's I'll read to you. Okay?"

"Okay," the youngest Winchester mumbled.

The car slid once again. John fought against the wheel, but overcorrected. The Impala turned in a sharp circle before plowing head first into a tree.

Dazed, Dean blinked rapidly. His head ached and he found himself sitting in the floor in front of the dash. Something sticky obscured his vision. He put his hand to his forehead and was horrified to see it come away covered in blood. It trickled down his face and onto his lips.

Carefully, Dean catalogued the rest of his body. He was a bit sore all over, but his head seemed to have taken the worst damage. His foggy mind began to clear. Sammy! Dad!

Dean struggled to push himself upward and a groan escaped his lips. He wiped the blood away from his eyes and mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Dean!" a frantic voice called from the backseat. "Are you okay? Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

"I'm not dead, Sammy," he nearly moaned as his head spun with a sickening nausea. Finally heaving his body into the seat, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes in an attempt to settle his stomach. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I just hit the back of the seat," Sam clarified, "but you're bleeding."

"It's just a scratch, kiddo; nothing to worry yourself about. Once we get to Uncle Bobby's I'll clean it up and put a bandage on it." He breathed a sigh of relief when Sam seemed to accept his answer. His relief was short-lived when Sam continued speaking.

"Dean, I can't wake Daddy up." Tears flooded the four-year-old's voice. "Is he dead?"

Dean's sluggish thoughts cleared even more at his brother's words. He blinked his eyes open and turned to look at his father.

John was lying over the steering wheel with blood staining his forehead.

"Dad?" Dean called as he placed a hand on his father's arm.

Sam hung over the seat watching anxiously.

"Dad?" Dean called again, a bit louder this time. He shook John's arm and then tapped his cheek. "Wake up, Dad. The car spun out. We need you to wake up. We can't stay here; we need to get to Uncle Bobby's."

When there was no response, fear bloomed in the eight-year-old's chest. They were caught in the middle of a snowstorm. He had no idea where they were; the road had been obliterated by snow. What if their dad was dying? Dean couldn't leave Sam alone to get help, and Sam wouldn't be able to walk very far in the deepening snow.

It was too cold to stay out here indefinitely. They were in trouble, big trouble.

To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

In the Dark of the Night

"_Dad?" Dean called again, a bit louder this time. He shook John's arm and then tapped his cheek. "Wake up, Dad. The car spun out. We need you to wake up. We can't stay here; we need to get to Uncle Bobby's."_

_When there was no response, fear bloomed in the eight-year-old's chest. They were caught in the middle of a snowstorm. He had no idea where they were; the road had been obliterated by snow. What if their dad was dying? Dean couldn't leave Sam alone to get help, and Sam wouldn't be able to walk very far in the deepening snow. _

_It was too cold to stay out here indefinitely. They were in trouble, big trouble. _

Chapter 2

"Dean, is Daddy okay?" Sam asked in a quivering voice.

Dean bit his bottom lip anxiously and swallowed hard as he tugged off a glove and placed a hand on his father's neck to feel for a pulse. His own breathing sounded loud in his ears as he fingers searched for just the right spot. Finally, he heaved a sigh of relief. "He's alive, Sammy; Dad's alive." A thread pulse thrummed beneath his fingertips. Dean pulled his hand back and shoved it into his glove once again.

"I'm scared, Dean," Sam choked out. His gloved hands clutched the back of the Impala's seats as he peered over them anxiously. His big brother could always make everything right, but he wasn't sure what Dean was going to be able to do now. What if their daddy was hurt really badly?

"I'll take care of you; don't worry," Dean assured his little brother. He scrambled to his knees in the front seat and gently leaned his dad's head back against the headrest. "Dad, come on; wake up. We need to get to Uncle Bobby's house."

When there was no response, Dean sighed anxiously. He wasn't sure why his dad wouldn't wake up. Maybe he had a concussion or internal injuries. Dean didn't see blood anywhere except coming from the wound on his dad's forehead, but then again that didn't really mean that there weren't injuries inside that he couldn't see. He was scared, but he couldn't let Sammy know that. His insides quivered. Sometimes it was hard being the big brother.

"Why won't Daddy wake up?" Sam whined.

Dean looked up to see his little brother's pale, scared face looking at him over the top of the seat. "I think he hit his head pretty hard," he explained to Sam. "We'll keep him warm and maybe he'll wake up soon." He hoped he spoke the truth.

Sam nodded. "'Kay," he answered with a sniffle.

The wind howled louder and the car rocked from its force; the gathering darkness seemed to press against the Impala's widowns. Dean tried to tamp down his growing worry as the storm worsened around them and his head began to ache dreadfully. The flow of blood had dwindled to a trickle, and he could feel it drying on his face.

His worries continued to assault him. How were they going to get to Bobby's house? He couldn't leave Sam here alone with John unconscious, and he doubted he'd be able to find his way to Bobby's in the snow anyways. He estimated it was nearly mid-shin on him already; the road had been obliterated.

Dean reached over to tighten the scarf around his dad's neck and then pulled the knit cap his father wore down snuggly over his ears. Other than that, there wasn't much he could do to keep his dad warm. Sam watched silently except for a sniffle every now and then. The car was still running, but the heater wasn't able to keep up with the cold that was seeping through the window panes. Dean shivered and looked to make sure Sam's coat was zipped up all the way.

"Are you warm enough, Sammy?" he asked as Sam sniffled yet again.

The four-year-old wiped at his drippy nose with the back of a glove. "I'm just a little cold," he admitted.

Dean chewed his bottom lip anxiously and then cast a glance toward the gas gauge. The car would keep the heat going a little while longer, but soon it was going to get pretty cold in here. He didn't know what to do.

A moan escaped John Winchester's lips and both boys were instantly on alert.

"Dad?" Dean called.

"Daddy?" Sam called out excitedly.

John fell quiet once again and his eyes stayed closed.

Dean felt his little brother's eyes on him and forced a smile. "I'm sure that's a sign that he'll wake up soon," he encouraged although he really wasn't sure at all that his father was okay.

Sam fell back against the Impala's seat and pushed his brown hair out of his eyes where it had escaped the edge of his hat. His stomach growled loudly. "When we get to Uncle Bobby's can we have something to eat?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, Sam," Dean replied as the car rocked in another violent gust of wind.

"Do you think he has mac and cheese?" the little boy asked hopefully as his stomach rumbled once again.

"Uncle Bobby always has mac and cheese," Dean grinned at his little brother feeling his own belly twist with hunger. He winced against the headache that had settled in behind his eyes and promised himself some pain relievers as well as the food when they got to their uncle's house.

"I'm bored, Dean," Sam admitted a few minutes later interrupting the quiet in the car and the howling of the wind outside.

Dean's mind scrambled for something to distract his little brother. "Why don't you color Dad or Uncle Bobby a picture?"

Sam considered this for a moment as his eyes strayed to the coloring book and crayons that had slid into the floor when the car had crashed into the tree. "Okay," he sighed as he reached a gloved hand down for the box of crayons. Maybe it was still light enough to see the pages in the book and the colors of the crayons.

Dean sighed with relief when his little brother was occupied. Now he concentrated on figuring out what to do. "Dad?" he called once again, feeling Sam's eyes on him. John didn't respond, so Dean rubbed his dad's cheek. "Dad, wake up," he murmured, but John remained unconscious.

The eight-year-old bit back a sigh and shifted his eyes to the window. The snow was rapidly getting deeper and now was probably closer to his knees than mid-shin. Dean had a vague idea of where they were, but he wasn't quite sure he could find the way to Bobby's in this snow. Sam was so short that he'd barely be able to walk in it, so he would have to be left behind with John. Everything in Dean screamed against that idea. Sammy was his responsibility; he had to keep him safe.

That was going to be hard to do here in the car. Now that they'd devoured the granola bar, there was nothing left to eat. There was a blanket in the trunk. Dean considered struggling through the snow to get to it, but opening the door would let in the cold. He didn't know what he should do.

Darkness had fallen completely now, and Sam had to put the coloring book aside. He shivered and curled up in a ball on the backseat. "I'm cold, Dean," he admitted as he tucked his feet beneath him.

The car chose that minute to sputter. Dean frantically looked at the gas gauge. There was still a bit of gas left, but something in the car must have been damaged when they hit the tree because the engine shuddered and died leaving the boys to listen to the howling of the wind.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Just great."

There was a scuffling noise and then Dean found himself with an armful of little brother as the two of them squeezed into the front passenger seat. "I'm scared," Sam whimpered. "Why won't Daddy wake up? Is he gonna die? Are we gonna freeze to death? I'm hungry."

Dean blinked at his little brother's rapid fire questions. "Dad will wake up when he's ready, and no, I'm not going to let you freeze to death." He wrapped his arms tightly around Sam as the little boy burrowed his head beneath his big brother's chin.

"Promise?" Sam asked in a small voice.

"I promise," Dean replied shakily.

"And you never break your promises," Sam smiled into the darkness even as he shivered once again.

Dean prayed that this wouldn't be the first time. As the cold intensified, he began to feel sleepiness tug at him and Sam yawned widely. Fear suddenly tightened the oldest Winchester brother's chest, and he knew he couldn't let his little brother fall asleep. "We have to stay awake, Sam," he prodded.

"But I'm tired," the four-year-old whined.

"Then let's sing," Dean suggested.

"Sing?" Sam yawned again. "Dean, you don't like to sing."

"Come on, Sam. Sing the ABC's with me." Dean could make out the confusion on his little brother's face in the darkness as he began. "A, B, C, D…"

Sam joined in, his little voice slightly off-key. The song came to an end with, "Next time won't you sing with me."

"Let's keep singing," Dean encouraged. "We can't fall asleep, Sammy. What do you want to sing next?"

"Um….The Itsy Bitsy Spider," Sam answered. After that they sang "The Wheels on the Bus" and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" before they both fell silent.

It was getting harder to stay awake. Dean's fingers and toes tingled with cold. He unzipped his jacket clumsily and tucked Sam's gloved hands inside to protect them from frostbite.

"I'm so cold, Dean, and I'm tired," Sam yawned.

"We have to stay awake," Dean said drowsily as his teeth chattered. He was so cold; he could feel the chill down into his bones.

"But I'm sleepy," his little brother protested as he curled against his big brother's chest.

"Stay awake, Sam," Dean urged as he gave the small boy a shake.

"Deeeaaaan," Sam whined.

"Sam, you can't go to sleep. We'll freeze to death if we do," Dean explained even as he found it more difficult to keep his eyes open.

"I can't stay awake," Sam slurred as his body melted against his big brother's.

"You have to, Sammy," Dean answered, even as he, too, lost the battle with sleep.

To Be Continued…

Thank you to LadyWallace and DearHart for the reviews and thanks to everyone who "favorited" and "followed." Happy Thanksgiving!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Kripke and not to me.

In the Dark of the Night

"_Sam, we can't go to sleep. We'll freeze to death if we do," Dean explained even as he found it more difficult to keep his eyes open. _

"_I can't stay awake," Sam slurred as his body melted against his big brother's._

"_You have to, Sammy," Dean answered, even as he, too, lost the battle with sleep._

Chapter 3

Dean groaned as a bright light bored into his pupils through his eyelids. His arms and legs felt like lead weights, and they were numb with cold. The only warm spot on his body was his chest where Sam was burrowed against him. "Sammy," Dean slurred, his tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth.

The warmth disappeared as Sam was disentangled from Dean's grasp.

"No!" Dean was cold and sleepy and uncoordinated, but he swung his numb arms and fought whoever was trying to take his little brother away from him. He couldn't remember why he was so cold and sleepy, but all his mind knew was Sammy. Someone was taking Sammy away from him. "No!" he groaned at the emptiness in his arms.

Dean fought to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy. Why was he so sleepy? Where was Sammy? He felt himself being lifted unto someone's arms and he began to fight once again. A warm blanket was suddenly wrapped around him, but he fought it off. "Sammy," he slurred.

"Dean, I've got ya; stop fighting me, now."

The voice was vaguely familiar, but Dean couldn't place it. His brain was too foggy. Why couldn't he concentrate? He could feel the sleepiness taking over once again. "Sam," he murmured before he lost consciousness.

Dean woke later feel warm and snug. He was buried beneath a layer of blankets and his head was nestled into a soft, white pillow. His right side was exceptionally warm and something was brushing his cheek. He turned his head and his brother's soft, brown hair tickled his nose.

"Dean, are you awake?" his little brother's voice whispered into his ear.

It all came rushing back to him then – the car, the snow, the accident. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at the ceiling in his Uncle Bobby's house. "Sammy, are you all right?" he croaked out, his throat dry and sore. He cleared it experimentally and winced when it hurt.

Dean felt his little brother wiggle against him and then Sam propped himself up on a pudgy arm. "I'm okay," he grinned. "You slept a long time, Dean."

Dean reached a hand out from under the covers and brushed Sam's messy brown hair back from the little boy's face as he checked Sam for a fever. They had been out in the cold a long time, and he didn't want his little brother getting sick. "Where's Dad?" he asked.

Sam held still as his brother checked him over. "He's in Uncle Bobby's room. Uncle Bobby had to put stitches in the booboo on his head and he was really cold like you. He was even colder 'cause he didn't have me to keep him warm. Uncle Bobby said that me and you kept each other warm."

"Bet we did, Squirt," Dean sighed as he turned on his side beneath the blankets. "You're like a little furnace."

Sam giggled and curled against his brother. "Yup, and I'll always help keep you warm, Dean. You need to stay warm; Uncle Bobby said so."

Dean was too sleepy and comfortable to move, so he wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him close.

"I'm glad you're okay," Sam whispered happily against his brother's chest.

"Me, too, kiddo," Dean sighed as he luxuriated in his little brother's warmth.

When he woke again, the smell of bacon filled the air. Sam was no longer curled up against him; he was alone in the bed. With a groan, he slid from beneath the covers, ran his hands over his hair and visited the restroom before padding down the hall to the kitchen in his socks.

"Dean!" Sam crowed from the table where he sat eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.

"Good afternoon, Sleepy Head," Bobby Singer smiled from his place by the stove. "How are you feelin'?"

"Fine," Dean answered, his voice still rusty with sleep.

"Food's almost done; why don't you get some juice and sit down beside your brother?"

Dean nodded and poured some orange juice into a glass before he sat down beside Sam. He took a sip and felt it sooth his sore throat.

"Want some of my marshmallows?" Sam asked as he nudged his cereal bowl toward his brother.

Dean plucked out a yellow star and popped it into his mouth before turning back to Bobby. "How's Dad?"

"John's got a hard head; he'll be fine. Might take him a bit longer than it took you boys, though. You and Sam kept each other warm. Your dad's body temperature was a bit lower."

"Can I see him?" Dean asked as his brow furrowed with worry.

"Sure thing, but eat your breakfast first." Bobby sat a plate heaping with bacon, eggs, and toast on the table in front of Dean. He watched as the boy sighed, but did as he was told and picked up his fork.

Dean made short work of the food on his plate and then carried his dishes to the sink. "Can I see Dad now?" he asked impatiently.

"Me, too?" Sam urged as he scampered to his brother's side.

"Just be quiet," Bobby warned. "John's going to have one heck of a headache."

"We will," Dean promised as he took Sam's hand in his own. "Right, Sammy?" He gave his little brother's hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'll be quiet," Sam whispered as he brushed his hair out of his eyes.

Dean led Sam down the hallway to Bobby's room and knocked gently before pushing open the door. "Dad?" he called softly.

There was no response from the still form on the bed. Dean tiptoed inside and tugged Sam with him. He felt the four-year-old press anxiously into his side. "Dad?" Dean asked again.

There was a groan from the bed. "Dean, are you and Sammy all right?" John's voice was weak and scratchy.

"Yeah, Dad, we're both fine," Dean replied as he came to a halt next to John's side.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Sam asked from his place beside Dean.

"I'll be fine. I've got a hard head," John reassured his son.

"That's what Uncle Bobby said," Sam informed his father in a matter of fact tone.

Dean snorted and John's light chuckle had him groaning in pain. He reached up a shaky hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Dean asked anxiously.

"I have a headache. Could you ask Bobby to come in here? I need some pain pills."

"Okay, Dad. Me and Sammy will check on you again later." Dean crept back out of the room with Sam's small hand still tucked securely into his. They found Bobby in the kitchen. "Uncle Bobby, Dad says he needs some medicine for the pain," Dean reported.

"All right, I'll take care of him. You two boys can go check out the new puzzles I put on the bookshelf in the living room." Bobby fished a bottle of medicine out of one of the kitchen cabinets, filled a glass with water, and then headed down the hallway to his bedroom to check on John.

Sam eagerly darted into the living room. "Come help me with a puzzle, Dean!" he called.

Dean stretched out on the floor beside Sam as the four-year-old dumped a dinosaur puzzle out onto the carpet. Together the boys flipped all of the pieces over so that they were facing upward. A cheery fire roared in the fireplace and Dean sighed happily. He finally felt warm all the way down to his bones. Uncle Bobby was taking care of Dad, so he knew John was going to be all right. Sammy seemed fine, his round cheeks rosy with health as he excitedly tried to fit puzzle pieces together.

Dean wiggled his toes happily inside of his socks and found two matching pieces of the puzzle. Sammy squirmed on the carpet until he was pressed against his big brother's side. He gave Dean a toothy grin and then rested his head on the eight-year-old's shoulder.

Dean's thoughts drifted to the cold loneliness of the car and then he shoved the bad memories to the back of his mind. As long as he was here with Sammy and his dad and they were warm and safe, that was what mattered. Sam's pudgy hand reached out in front of him to grab a puzzle piece, and Dean smiled. As long as his little brother was healthy and right here with him, everything was going to be fine.

The End

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading my first solo Supernatural fic. LadyWallace and I are co-writing a fic called "Life's Little Surprises." It features Dean, Sam, and their four-year-old niece and contains lots of fluff. Please give it a read and review. We'd love to hear from you. You can find it on LadyWallace's profile.


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